


what we were and what we are

by spiritofneglect



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Depression, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Japan, Loneliness, Mentions of past abuse, Parental Role, Reader-Insert, Soulmates, depressed reader, elder sister relationship, in an apartment building, intimadation, mentions of depression, mentions of gang relations, mentions of gang violence, mentions of pass struggles, only two apartments per floor, prolonged ageing, protective Reader, protective bokuto, punk! reader, reader lives in japan, soulmate, young bokuto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritofneglect/pseuds/spiritofneglect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you turn 18 you stop ageing until you meet your soulmate- sometimes you have to wait a few years at most.<br/>And the most unfortunate have to wait life times.<br/>You have lived a long time, long enough for your family to grow old and leave you behind to organise every funeral that only further nails you down to your loneliness. You move to Japan for work and people who won't recognise you. But when a single mother -having lost her husband and soulmate- moves in next door with her son, Bokuto Kōtarō. You might have found someone worth staying for. </p><p>or</p><p>You're a super old loner in an 18 year old body waiting for your soulmate but instead you get a Bokuto Koutarou and helping his single mother raise him to 18. Struggles and trouble ensues with a strangely protective Bokuto and a very sad very lonely reader, waiting for precious Bokuto to reach 18 and leave them behind for his soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The youngest I remember

Bokuto remembers moving into the apartment building with his single mother, holding her hand as she struggled with a box in the other. he can recall the lift wasn’t working, the stairs were many and tiring for his young body, but he kept going because his mum didn’t need him troubling her as well.  
The weird thing about this day, was Bokuto can very clearly, recall meeting you. The sharp contrast of your eye colour to your hair and the tone of your skin, the colour of your clothes.   
Had he had not been so entranced for reasons unknown to him- you would have scared him.   
Black, ripped jeans and tall military boots, a tank top and sleeveless denim jacket over the top, a soft grey hoodie buttoned on the top, arm warmers hooked to thumb to elbow, leather bands and rope bracelets, band pins and patches ironed to the jacket, logos hand stitched to the sides. Your hair was messy and streaked with (fav colour), something he hadn’t seen on someone since he had worked through the throng of Tokyo city streets with his mum looking for apartments.  
Yeah you had been so scary, his mum’s hand had tightened around his the moment her eyes caught yours, narrowed and aggressive looking.   
But Bokuto recalls everything had gone a little slowly, those sharp eyes softened as they widened, your posture slumping a little bit as shoulders drooped lazily and hands untucked themselves from pockets.  
“Would you like some help with that? It looks very heavy.” You walked forward, smiling welcomingly, and winked at him.  
“Ah um, thank you.” his mum had seemed unsure, but you took the box, clearly understanding your intimidating effect, and let your whole body relax, your full height, well above his mother, dropping down to only a little taller.   
The muscles in your arms rippled as you took what he had thought to be heavy box from his mum without batting an eye, and you introduced yourself as his mum showed you to their new apartment.  
“I’m (y/n) (l/n), I’m foreign though so please just call me by my first name. You must be my new neighbor?”   
“Ah yes, it would seem that way, thank you for helping with the box, you can just put it there if you’d like.”   
You put it down gently, not sure what was it in, and turned with a slightly unsure smile.   
“Well, I’m Bokuto Nigiri, and this is my son, Bokuto Koutarou. We moved here to start at a new school, didn’t we my little owl?”  
Even at that age he was aware enough to be a little embarrassed by his pet name- and made his thoughts known with a red faced pout and protest- but then you were crouched in front of him and smiling with confidence in your eyes.   
Their depths were warm, the only thing in focus, “well, I think owls are cool, don’t you? they can turn their heads allll- the way ‘round and they’re really clever!”  
He was shy at first, and remembers muttering that you have a funny accent.   
You laughed, and his mum scolded him lightly, you invited them too your apartment, making yourself and his mother tea, and him something you called a milo.  
“ah! Milo is from my country, you can have it like a hot chocolate or you can do this-“ milk and then spoonfuls of the chocolatey looking goodness on top. “-And you eat it up with the milk!”  
He really, really, liked that drink –only it wasn’t chocolate, which was very strange he thought.

You helped unpack the car, and when his mother sighed over the fact they only had one futon and one blanket, you were quick to give them your third, waving it off as you apparently already had a spare.   
“oh I have this really cute doona!”  
“what’s a doona?”  
“A big, warm blanket that’s extra comfy!”

 

You towered over him, he felt so so small in front of you. His hands shook slightly as he tried to bravely stare you down, standing in front of his Mother, in need of protection from scary strangers like you, whenever he saw you he repeated this action, not being able to properly gauge you. You only ever laughed, and stepped around him.   
It took hardly a week before Bokuto saw something his mother had not noticed before, you refused to touch him, and recoiled slightly whenever you brushed against Nigiri. It was like every time you touched another person you were burned, sometimes he would see your eyes widen as you snatched your hand back and stuff it in a pocket, closing in on yourself. That mixed with his inability to properly read anything about you, from intentions to motivations to even reasons for actions you took, made him feel a little uneasy whenever he saw you. Because something really add up.  
“Mum, (y/n) is weird.”  
Nigiri peered up from her dinner, putting her fork down slowly. “what do you mean dear?”  
Koutarou pondered it for a moment, humming thoughtfully, “I don’t know. She’s just weird.”  
“I think I know what you mean.” His mum put the fork down, and instead leaned her chin into her palm. “Me and you dad met very quickly, Kou, I’ve told you about soulmates before haven’t I?”  
He nodded, shoveling more food in his mouth as he regarded his mother with interest.   
“Well, most people meet their soul mates very quickly, they wait maybe a few years at most, but sometimes..” she paused, and her eyes wondered to the wall connecting them to your apartment. “Sometimes Kou some people don’t meet their soul mate for a long, long time. So they get really old, but only in their mind. Their body doesn’t change. So really, (y/n) is probably a lot older than me, but looks younger. And that’s probably why you think she’s strange.”  
“wouldn’t it be cool to be the same age for ages?”  
“No Kou, it wouldn’t, you’ll understand it better when you’re older.” 

“Kou?”  
“yes mum?”  
“Don’t ask (y/n) about her soul mate ok? It’s very rude.”

 

“Koutarou, will you give this too (y/n) for me?”  
Hardly one to refuse his mother’s request Koutarou diligently took the dish from his mother, and marched all the way to your tightly closed door before he hesitated. He hadn’t had to knock on your door before, not by himself.   
It took him a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat, and he kicked the door to gain your attention from inside the apartment, but at the sound o your foot fall he found himself shifting his weight nervously.   
The door opened and you seemed mildly surprised to see him there.  
“Mum told me to give this too you.”   
“Oh, thank you Bokuto.” You leaned down and reached for the dish, and upon passing it to your much larger hands, he purposefully brushed against your own.   
He watched as you flinched slightly, smile becoming forced, it twitched at the corners and the smile faded from your eyes. You looked anxious.   
“You hate being touched, why?”   
“uh.” You held the dish now, and invited him inside as you placed it on the bench top. “some people, Bokuto, don’t like touching things that they think they’ll ruin. I feel like if I touch someone like you or or mum, that I’m going to break you.”  
“why?”  
“Because, Bokuto.” You smiled sadly, and looked him in the eye, a boy who could never understand such issues, it was fruitless to try and explain it. “I am a broken person, and I don’t want my misfortune to rub off on you.”  
“That’s stupid.”  
You laughed dryly, having expected a reaction of that kind, “it would sound like it to someone like you, but people in their teens and adults don’t want it. They don’t want my bad luck so they avoid me.”  
“It’s still stupid! You can’t catch bad luck.”  
“superstitions, Bokuto,” you lead him to your door, and watched him get to his own door way before beginning to close the door. “sometimes they have merit.”  
And then you’re gone from sight.

 

It was this conversation and the moments that followed, of your avoidance and disdain of being touched that made the memory of the first time you voluntarily touched him yourself without his own meddling.   
The memory of you reaching down in a moment of happiness and ruffling his hair as you beat him in Mario kart was sharp. If he concentrated he could still smell the beef ramen you had on the stove, brewing away for an early dinner before you worked night shift at a local pub, the feel of the old blanket over his lap and against his arms, the wii controller in his hands, surrounded by a wheel for the game. He had peered up at you with wide eyes, both surprised and pleased. You had kept laughing, seemingly not even noticing the magnitude of your own actions in those fleeting moments.   
But Bokuto didn’t think he’d ever forget, and from then on, you continued the small gestures of growing affections, the ruffles of hair and picking him up to forcibly move him somewhere else.   
Each moment was a precious memory in itself.


	2. Promises made to break

You were singing with Koutarou in your kitchen again, when him and his mother had moved in and you started babysitting the little trouble maker and having Nigiri over for tea, you had invested in having some bench stools, but you didn’t trust him not to fall -much to Koutarou’s chagrin- and had him seated on the bench instead as you made dinner.  
“Ready Koutarou? This is an English song!”  
“Whoa really!?”  
You nodded as you began bobbing your head and bouncing a little, “ready Koutarou!?”  
“Yeah!”

“I don't wanna go to school  
I just wanna break the rules  
Boys and girls across the world  
Putting on our dancing shoes  
Going to the discotheque  
Getting high and getting wrecked  
I don't wanna go to school  
I just wanna break the rules!”

He was yelling and you were singing, make a very loud mess in your apartment. 

“here we go again!  
Get my guitar  
Sunglasses on  
So light it up  
And never stop, it's how we ride  
Comin' up until we die

I don't wanna go to school  
I just wanna break the rules  
Boys and girls across the world  
Putting on our dancing shoes  
Going to the discotheque  
Getting high and getting wrecked  
I don't wanna go to school  
I JUST WANNA BREAK THE RULES!”

Your laughs mingled together, filling the kitchen with happiness that it had not seen in a very, very long time. 

 

“(y/n), can I hear one of the songs you won’t play?”  
You glance at him over your food, pausing in shoving the pasta in your mouth, and raised a brow.  
“You know why I don’t play those.”  
He pouted, “you said they’re too mature for me, but I can’t even understand them.” he poked at the strands of food on his plate with his fork, pushing it to one side before another, “I’m mature enough for it.”  
You sighed, “ok Kou, if you want to hear it that much, I’ll play one. But not loud and you can’t ask what it means!”  
He nodded eagerly, and even though you struck a deal you still hesitated in pulling your phone out.  
with a sigh you scrolled, clearly trying to pick one to play.  
“ok Kou, this is one of my favourite bands. You can’t show them to your mother!”  
he nodded, leaning forward to better hear the foreign language, to try and gauge the type of song you were playing. 

Someone left the door open  
Who left me outside?  
I’m bent, I’m not broken  
Come live in my life  
All the words left unspoken  
All the pages I write  
On my knees, and I’m hoping  
That someone holds me tonight  
Hold me tonight

The pace suddenly lurched forward, and it sounded angry, aggressive. He had thought it surprisingly mild, but then the lyrics seemed heavier and young Bokuto didn’t know what to make of it, he just sat there, rather surprised and intrigued. 

Welcome to the world and all the land in it was wasted  
The blood upon your hands and the wickedness that made it  
Sing or scream it all and the memories keep fading  
See the exit wound, dear God, what have we taken?  
Guess I’ll say a prayer and I’ll kiss into the air  
I’ll look into the sky, send them straight to nowhere  
We all dug the grave can’t shake away the shame  
Quiver in the sky but you’re shaken all the same  
You left us with the guns and all of them unloaded  
Teach us how to shoot but you taught us how to hold them  
All the weight of all the world is right between your shoulders  
Heavy is the heart when the world keeps growing colder

You continued to eat, but Bokuto noted how you knee bounced along to it, completely in sync and how your demeanor tweaked slightly, suddenly matching the sound of the music that played from your phone. 

And when the song ended all Bokuto was think was that it sounded oddly sad. And he glanced up to see you had stopped eating, fork resting on the plate as you stared blankly at the pasta growing cold. You looked tragically sad.  
And he didn’t want you to be sad.

 

The next time you babysat Koutarou was a day you had planned to go out, you needed to buy the next season of a favourite anime, which had just been released, not to mention you were craving doughnuts and the dire need to get out somewhere that was not work. You had spent much to much time cooped up in your apartment on your long service leave.  
And so you dressed in the same sort of clothes as when Bokuto first met you, and turned to face him when ready, “Koutarou, if anyone tries to talk to you, don’t talk to them and make sure to stay with me. Ok?”  
He nodded excitedly -he had never gone out with you before- the prospect of the outing made him jittery and his fingers turn to butter, everything falling from his grasp.  
But your grip around his much smaller hand was firm, and Bokuto allowed you to lead him, and his fear of being left behind like everything he had dropped vanished, torn away with the brutality of your unwavering confidence.  
A beacon of light in world of unsure darkness. 

At the shops you still held his hand, but Bokuto noticed something he never had before in regards to other people. Of all the times he had seen you interact with strangers; his friends, his mother’s or even other tenants of the building, no one had stared at you like this. Out in public, buying DVDS and CDs, people just stared at you, they moved out of your way, they shook heads disapprovingly, anyone younger scurried out of your path too avoid you at all costs.  
He even heard someone mutter something about ‘youngsters these’ one elderly lady even nudged her husband, shooting you dirty looks she said, loud enough for half the store to hear, ‘that boy must be 7, can’t believe she didn’t wait for her soulmate. He won’t want her now that’s for sure.’  
Bokuto had reared up at the woman, pulling away from your hand as you browsed the anime to correct her.  
“(y/n) isn’t my mother! She’s my nice neighbour! Nicer than you!” He had shouted, you had run to him, scooping up a feisty Bokuto and hugging him to your chest, he beat at your shoulders, eager to continue berating the woman. But you didn’t even bat an eye as his little fists slammed into your shoulder, even as he squirmed and tried to kick his legs.  
He expected you to apologise for his behavior, something his mother did often, but what came next all but ceased his squirming and grumble. You only shot the woman a narrow glare and a few sharp words, “careful what you say lady, so presumptuous.” Bokuto went quiet as he sensed more than saw your demeanor change, the atmosphere he was picking up from you was extremely unfamiliar to only a moment ago, and you took a step closer to the lady and her husband, and spat venomously, “I’m older than you by life times, and clearly many more than that in maturity, don’t look at me or this boy ever again.” The woman flinched back, eyes wide and hand searching for her partners’, her figure trembling under the cold, sharp violence in your eyes.  
Bokuto didn’t know what to feel as you turned your back to her, allowing him to see the expressions of the couple over your shoulder, the terror in the lady’s eyes, the fear in their posture.  
And with that you bought the DVDs and decided to go somewhere else for CDs.  
The cashier apologised to you, but you said nothing and with Bokuto on your shoulders you left the store, but he continued to peer into the store, eyes searching out the couple with dubiously innocent curiosity. 

He walked along side you, you on the side of the path closest to the road and his hand tight in yours. The words the woman had muttered still echoed in his head, bouncing off the insides of his mind and returning only to remind him of the problem that you had lived with for many years now. Something he couldn’t even comprehend.  
He wanted those thoughts to rest, to quell the baffled questions in his head.  
But despite his determination, Bokuto still wavered, his mother’s words of caution somewhere in the back of his head. He ignored them, “(y/n)? where’s your soulmate?”  
“What?” you whipped around to look at him with wide eyes, and when you met his own doe doe brown and golden, a flash of pain shot through your gaze, causing you to look away as though the sight of him burned you.  
“Has your mother explained soulmates to you Koutarou?” your voice was meek, so little Bokuto felt he could diminish your very existence with a single step in the wrong direction.  
“A little bit, she said they’re meant to be someone you’re with forever. You meet them when you’re 18, and you keep growing because of it, but if you don’t meet them then you stop growing. She said you have to meet them to grow again, so you could be 18 for 100 years and not look any older! Not until you meet your soulmate!”  
“She was right Koutarou,” you sighed, “you can live 100 years and not look a day older, and some very unfortunate people have this happen to them.”  
“Do you know anyone like that (y/n)?” Bokuto regretted his words immediately as you stopped, he wanted to grab them in his little hands and gobble them back up, he wanted to never have said them at all. The exhausted, desperate expression that twisted your previously strong manner had Koutarou clutching at the loosened grip you now had with both hands, not wanting to let go.  
“I am someone like that Koutarou,” you squatted down and glanced at him before looking past him, to something no one but you could see, hidden from sight by the emotional turmoil of ones’ soul.  
“You don’t want it Kou, because everyone keeps growing around you, your mum, your friends. And eventually, they start getting really, really old. But you still look the same, everyone gets super old that you know, but they’re happy.” You finally manage to tear your gaze away from whatever it is you see behind him, and meet his stare.  
“And then they leave you Kou, and you’re the only one left, and you’re the only one unhappy.”  
Koutarou’s stomach plummeted as he saw tears gather in your eyes, pain shone brightly as the tears gathered and began to tumble. Bokuto didn’t need to think as he reached up with his little hands, and he wiped your cheeks gently, his thumb brushing across the damp skin tentatively.  
“Don’t cry (y/n).”  
“I’m trying.”  
But despite the strength implied in your words your voice shook unbearably, he could barely make out the words, you had began to gently sob, sniffling and wiping at your nose, Bokuto never moving his hands as he cupped your cheeks.  
And as more tears fell he wiped at them again, “I won’t leave you behind (y/n).”  
You sniffled and gasped gently as a sob broke, your eyes glistening with pain he couldn’t ever understand. He leaned forward, balancing on his tiptoes as he pressed a kiss to your cheek right over a wiped away track of tears, “You’re gonna be my soulmate (y/n), and then we’ll keep growing together.”  
You chuckled weakly, it sounded afflicted, strained with over done effort.  
“That’s very nice of you Kou...” 

You didn’t believe him, and Bokuto’s chest panged.


	3. Brutality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Koutarou sees you injured -and it isn't entirely an accident.

“(y/n)?”   
You opened the door, already knowing who it was who waited at your door. And sure enough-  
“David.”   
He looked you up and down, in black jeans and loose shirt. “Still not a day older I see, look like shit though, more so than usual.”  
“What do you want?” You snarl, “I said not at the apartment, you’re not allowed to take this anywhere near the people I know.”   
“You mean the kid and his mum right?” David leaned on the open door frame, you shooting a burning look to the movement, however, there was nothing you could do about his antics. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything. And if it bothers you that much then I won’t come here again.”  
“Good-“  
You were cut off as he grabbed the front of your shirt, yanking you from your apartment and slamming you into the opposite wall, your hands flew to his collar, keeping him at bay as he attempted to crush your air way with his fists alone. His body pressed to yours, and you growled from deep in your chest, your eyes narrowing dangerously and glinting with violence.  
“You will come to organized meets then, otherwise I will come to your apartment, and in front of that little kid and his mum I will violate you in every possible way until you want to kill yourself and leave your awaiting soulmate nothing but horrible realisation.” David’s eyes scorched into yours, the glare promising to bring his words to life if given the opportunity. The world around you became blurred out, the sounds fading as you focused solely on the man threatening you, everything else becoming irrelevant as the sounds of your blood pumping began to thrum in your ears. You released his collar in one hand, drawing to fist back, seeing red and blood rushing, scolding through you with fury-  
There was a ding and your eyes widened, your fist still at full drawback, David only now realizing what you were about to do. Despite the static atmosphere, heavy with aggression, you both looked to the source of the sound. The elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open and David eased off you as Bokuto Nigiri pulled her son close to her, only taking a second to realize the pulsing aggression and violence as the beginning of a vicious fight she would not do well to be near.   
Koutarou however, peered at you both, clenching his little hands in fists as his mother sheltered him, the tension seeping into the elevator as David’s hand moved to enclose sharply around your wrist.   
“To your apartment maybe?”   
You scowled, and with a flick of your wrist he was off you, taking a quick step back as you glared with all the fire you could muster in front of an innocent child and mother.   
“I’ll be there, now get out.” He went towards the elevator but your senses flared with danger and you grabbed his hoodie with quick reflexes, “by the stairs.”  
He chuckled and slapped your hand away, spinning around to face the stairs instead, “I’ll take my leave, and I’ll see you-” you growled as his fingers danced across your jaw, “-tomorrow.”  
Then he was gone and silence enveloped the hall.   
You turned away as the door to the stairs clicked shut and locked on itself, assuring you he would not creep back through. You met Nigiri’s fearful gaze, and you had to look away quickly, as if burned. “You should go inside in case he comes back.” You were quiet, hardly murmuring the words as you shuffled away.   
Nigiri nodded and she hurried inside, but not before Koutarou could peer up at you worriedly.   
He let go of his mum and stood in his door way, blinking big innocent golden orbs at you.   
“Who was that? Did he want to hurt you?”  
You smiled at him sweetly, “No Bokuto, he doesn’t want to hurt me.”  
“Is he your soulmate?”  
“Huh” you scoffed, straightening your shirt and running a hand through your hair, “not in his wildest dreams. Now go to your mum Kou, and stay inside tomorrow ok? No matter what you hear.”

He nodded.

\------------------------------------------------------- 

You locked your door smoothly despite the lump in your throat, your keys jingling as you pulled up a floor board and hid them there.   
Your neighbours’ door opened and Bokuto Nijiri leaned out, “all good dear?”  
“Yes Nigiri, it’s all good. I won’t be in today though, nor this evening. Oh and please keep Koutarou inside,” you hesitated upon standing, “don’t come out if you hear anything. Anything at all.”  
She only nodded, and watched helplessly as you left via the elevator, a sad smile and small wave as the doors closed.  
“Mum, where is (y/n) going?”  
She shook her head, “we’re staying inside today Kou, there’s a monster on the prowl.”  
“Is (y/n) going to get rid of it?”  
“I don’t know hun, I don’t know.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

It was late in the evening, the Bokuto family of two were eating dinner when there was a disturbance in the hall. At first it was only the ding of the elevator, and Nigiri was about to go to the door to greet you when shouting spilled down the hall.  
Jeering was the main cause of chaos, and she ran to the door to check it was absolutely locked, just before the handle jostled and she heard you shouting protest.  
“Don’t you touch that door!”   
A crash and loud thump and Nigiri bundled up her son as he ran to the door, the familiarity of your voice drawing him.   
“Is it that (y/n)?! Is she in trouble!?”  
“Shh darling, you need to be quiet ok?”   
“(y/n)!?” He yelled, his little arms reaching out as his mum carried him away, trying to hush him. “(y/n)! Don’t hurt her!”  
She locked themselves in the bedroom, caressing her crying son as his shrills yells for you died down to hushed sobs.  
The yelling suddenly died, and there was a moment of relieved silence before the sickening thud of the connection of a fist to soft flesh.  
She covered Bokuto’s ears just as his eyes widened, trying to place the horrible sound.  
The echo of you groaning quickly followed, and then another thud, and another, many more followed.  
The jeering started up again and then they faded out with a bing of the elevator.   
There was a thump and loud groan, presumably from you moving around, Nigiri uncovered Bokuto’s ears and creeped toward the door, but he had already ran to it, and currently scrambled to reach and unlock it.   
“Mum unlock it! We need to help (y/n)!”  
She glanced down at him worriedly, and peeked through the peep hole of the door, only just managing to see you crouched on the floor, face hidden from view.   
You struggled to your feet, leaning heavily against the opposite wall.  
There was no one else and Nigiri reached for the handle, unlocking it frantically.  
“Don’t.”   
She stopped.  
“Don’t open the door, stay inside. I don’t know if they’ll be back or not.”   
Your voice broke, and she could hear the struggle in your tone, as if trying to keep your voice steady and unwavering.   
Nigiri swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands shaking slightly, bokuto banged on the door. “You’re hurt.”  
“I know.” You muttered, you limped to your own door, and dropped to the ground to get the keys. “I’m fine, I can deal with myself.”  
“Let me help!” Nigiri called past the door, but you didn’t answer.   
And she heard the door open, and close.   
And the opportunity was lost.  
And Koutarou began to sob again.

 

The next time they saw you, you were knocking on the door to apologise for the disruption that had occurred the other day. You had, simply put, for the last few days refused to leave your apartment, and it had been silent as the dead. The moment Nigiri opened the door at gasped at the sight of your face, Koutarou had come sprinting from another room and practically launched himself onto you, and refused to let go.  
You ended up in their apartment, Nigiri cleaning cuts on your face and reapplying badly done bandaids and bandages.   
“Why were they here? And you knew they would come too.”  
“I cut it off with them.” You muttered, running a hand through the hair of a distraught Koutarou, seated in your lap and clothing at the front of your shirt, his face buried in its folds as he tried to hide his tear tracked face. “I don’t want to be in that crowd anymore.”   
“Well right now I think your problem is the little issue on the front of your shirt.”   
You looked down with a soft gaze and ran your hand through his multi coloured hair again, it was unbelievably soft despite it’s sticking on end, when you shifted his grip on your shirt tightened and he hurried his face further, making no sound what so ever.  
“Want him for the night?”  
You looked up sharply, “you would leave him with me?”  
Nigiri sighed softly, “it’s an opportunity to take night shift, they’ll pay me more for that.”  
You nodded, “I’ll have him for the night then.”   
She nodded, and Koutarou still said nothing.

 

“Are you hungry?”  
he refused to meet your eye, or even answer you.  
You sighed and put down the kettle for the instant ramen. “Koutarou, are you angry at me?”  
“You let them do that.”   
You weren’t surprised, not even phased at the thick emotion in his young voice, nor the accusation that rolled of his tongue with a hiss.   
“What do you mean Kou?”  
He snapped around to face you, a little boy, only seven but his eyes ablaze with anger.   
“You let them hurt you like that! You just let them! They came here and you let them hurt you and now your really sore and you’re all cut and stuff!”  
You listened, eyes to the floor and soft as you took in his words, neither denying or acknowledging any truth to them.  
“Why!?”  
“Sometimes Kou,” you walked to his place on the living room floor, but he crawled back from you, tears in the corner of burning eyes and cheeks puffed, biting his lip and fists balled in the blanket. “When we’re very sad, and very lonely, we find something to make us feel better, and for me that meant falling in with the wrong crowd. I wasn’t a good person Kou, I was very mean and did some very bad things.” You took in a deep breath, sitting crossed legged across from him, the words came naturally to you, music played through the portable speakers gently; Gleymérei by Milkhouse  
“But some people get to meet someone very special, or two people, and when we meet them we want to be better for them, even if they’re not our soulmate. We try and make ourselves better for them so they don’t have to know about all those bad things we’ve done, or the bad people we did them with. However, bad people, they don’t want you to go, and so they try to scare you into staying. It can be very hard to get out, and the best way to do it is just let them do what they need, let them ‘scare’ you and then leave anyways.”   
The song came to a close, the piano the only instrument remaining, “I’m sorry Koutarou.”  
He sobbed and tears broke down his face as he launched himself at you, you cooed and held him to your chest, one bandaged arm and the other grazed and littered with band aids.


	4. Schools of present and past

You walked down the pathway, it was slightly chilly in the cool April morning, but the sun was climbing with promises of clear skies and slight warmth in the crisp breezes.  
“This is your last year of elementary school then Kou?”  
“Yup!” He skipped a bit, you didn’t have hold of his hand, seeing as there were no cars along this road very often. “I’m 11 now! After this I get to go to middle school!”  
You chuckled as his eyes sparkled and he skipped and jump again, “I get to play on the volleyball club again!”  
“Your school has a volleyball club?”  
“Yup! and I’m really good!”  
“I bet you are,” you laughed, watching him jump and swing his arm in a spiking motion. “Can you reach the top of the net though?”  
He paused, and dropped suddenly, “no, we’re all too short, we just practice.”  
You paused in your walking, the droopy Koutarou you now had to deal with was more than you bargained for when you broached this topic, and so you quickly though up a solution.  
“Don’t worry Kou, I’m going to make it so you can reach the top of the net and spike any toss.”  
He brightened instantly, the excitement back in his eyes as you kept walking, reaching down and grasping his hand when a car whizzed by, he didn’t complain like you expected him too, after all, all 11-year-old boys thought they didn’t need guidance of any kind, especially if it meant holding someone’s hand. When the car was gone you went let go again, but Koutarou’s grip became firm and he began to pull you forward, you were surprised by the energy and strength as he led you forward, picking up the pace to his school.  
“Have you played volleyball (y/n)!?”  
“Koutarou, I think I’ve done every sport there is, I can guarantee I can still play Volleyball, it was very enjoyable.”  
“Why’d you stop?” he didn’t notice how your expression faltered slightly, the small smile that had been there dropping down and eyes just a little surprised. “I don’t know why you’d want to stop! It’s so cool! the way you just hit the ball and it slams!”  
Haha, I wasn’t a spiker Kou, I was a setter.”  
“A setter!?”  
You laughed, genuinely again, Koutarou always managed to make you smile. “Yes, I was a setter, so I can definitely give you a toss you can spike Kou.”  
Koutarou was overflowing with excitement and happiness by the time you got to the school gates.  
However, you noticed he quickly fell silent, eyes wide and peering at parents and some of the teachers that walked around, some students too looked up at you with a little fear, intrigue, curiosity even.  
Though you didn’t really blame them, after getting a little into the punk and rock scene when you were younger the style had stuck, the black ripped jeans and streaked hair, piercings and boots muscle tops and tanks. You even sported a tattoo that Koutarou had yet to see, as it was on the small of your back.  
Koutarou reached up to your hand, his eye brows furrowed in determination as he marched through the halls of his schools, he had let go upon entering the school yard, but now it seemed he was adamant in holding it.  
You sighed lightly as his grip tightened when a mother pulled her daughter behind her, eyes watching you like a hawk.  
Howeverm, it was over soon enough when you reached his classroom.  
“Koutarou, I should leave you here, I’m going to have to go buy a volleyball now, oh and that new anime!” You felt your heart pick up again at the prospect of watching the next season of the anime, you had waited for it for awhile after all.  
“Can I watch it with you!?”  
You laughed and ruffled his hair with your fingers, to which he quickly jumped back and swatted your hands away, parents glanced over at the commotion, as did the students -those that weren’t already peering at you- you leaned back, standing to your full height, then slouched to take off a couple centimeters.  
“Maybe later Kou, after I make sure there’s nothing bad in it.”  
“I can handle it!”  
You were about to retort with light wit, but you were quickly cut off by the appearance of a teacher, or at least who you presumed to be the teacher.  
She had on a neat skirt, only just above her knees, and a neat blouse, her brunet hair pulled back in a pony tail, a few locks framing her face.  
“Bokuto-san, who is this? Where’s your mother?”  
You raised a brow at the dubious glance she shot you, your hands tucking into the pockets of your jacket, eyes narrowing in response.  
“Aino-Sensei, this is my neighbour, (y/n).”  
Yup, teacher.  
“Neighbour?”  
“That’s right,” you replied, struggling slightly to keep your tone from turning sour as her eyes looked you up and down in a rather judgmental manner. “I’m his neighbour, friends with his mum.”  
“She trusts you enough to bring him to school?”  
Your eye twitched, the ‘polite’ smile you tried to keep on your face suddenly seemed more intimidating than anything. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to home school him too.”  
You watched the teacher bristle, she looked to be in her 20’s, she had met her soulmate for sure. It was almost enough to make you indifferently bitter towards her.  
“I’m qualified.”  
“sitting down at a university desk and learning about it doesn’t beat actually experiencing it.” You quipped, the polite smile gone, replaced with an unimpressed frown and a glint of distain in your eyes. “Nigiri trusts me, Koutarou trusts me, and to be frank I’m qualified too, I’ve done so many courses it’d have your head spinning. Besides that, University isn’t everything.”  
Koutarou had to strain to hear your hushed, venomous voice, and even then he wasn’t sure if it was something you would really want him to hear at all.  
But then you turned to him, and that frown and the aggressive glint seeped away. He blinked at you questioningly, he hadn’t known you had been to university, in fact it had never occurred to him at all. Sometimes he thinks you’ve been that age forever.  
Koutarou is almost overwhelmed by the knowledge that yes, you had been his age before. You had gone to school, you had had friends that you ate lunch with and you went to said friends’ weddings, they were growing around you. There had been a time where you were meeting teachers for the first time, where you would have been nervous.  
He blinked again, and meeting those eyes, confident and brimming with joy when you saw him, the unwavering certainty and wisdom that lurked deep in those (e/c) pools, Bokuto couldn’t picture you young and going to school. It didn’t seem right you not being as you were now.  
“I’ll get you after school Kou, we’ll play volleyball tomorrow, ok?”  
He nodded with zest, and waved to you enthusiastically as you left the room.

“Bokuto?”  
He turned around, a little confused when his teacher walked to him, a soft smile gracing her lips and her eyes just a little too concerned.  
“Yes sensei?”  
“I think we should talk, just briefly, I know your neighbour is waiting for you.”  
“You want to talk about (y/n)?”  
She nodded, pulling out a small seat for herself and for him, she sat before speaking.  
“Do you trust (y/n)-san?”  
He didn’t even need to think about, what a stupid question he thought. He nodded fiercely.  
“Has,” his teacher seemed to hesitate, brushing at a stray strand of hair, attempting to tuck it behind her ear. “Has she ever done anything strange?”  
He cocks his head, furrowing his eyebrows, a low ‘hmm’ humming as he thought the question over. “Well, (y/n) is strange, Mum says she’s just really old, so I find her strange. But I think (y/n) is just really weird, her apartment is always empty, she just really owns comics, books, games and stuff. Plus, some of the things she does is strange.”  
His teacher leaned forward slightly, curiosity and concern both shining just as brightly.  
“Can you think of anything?”  
He hummed thoughtfully again, “she used to hate touching me, she would always run away if she did. And when I ask her about stuff, she gets really weird, like, all quiet and slow and stuff.”  
His teacher nods, and is about to speak again before Bokuto looks down, his lips dragging down in a sad frown, his eyes dropping.  
“Then there was something that happened last year...”  
Aino perks, her eyes flashing with what could be called ‘confidence in ones’ judgment of someone’, as if she believed that everything she had presumed could be solidified by what he about to say.  
Bokuto didn’t notice the change in demeanor. His voice starts out slowly, sadly. “Me and mum came home, and we see her in the hall with this guy, he had her against the wall. They were really rough, Mum said that is was very dangerous, that she wanted me and her to be able to get out of there as soon as possible, she told me later she was going to go back to ground level if (y/n) hadn’t told him to leave. The next day, (y/n) came back after going out, and there were a bunch of guys with her, I didn’t see, we locked the door and mum covered my ears.  
But a few days later (y/n) was super beat up, Mum had to help heal her.”  
Aino is surprised by the story, her anxiety shooting through the roof as Bokuto finished. Instantly the hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she involuntarily brings your face to mind from her memory of the morning, and she tries to picture that confident expression, aggressive eyes, beaten and bruised and covered in wounds.  
It proves to be difficult, and she quickly gives up.  
“Has it ever happened again?”  
“(y/n) said it never would, and if it did, she knew how to get them to stop.”  
“Did she say how-“  
“Koutarou?”  
Aino started, head whipping to the door, where she saw you.  
You looked mildly confused and just the tiny bit suspicious. But Aino blinked and it was gone, your eyes met hers, and Aino could read nothing. They were strong, unwavering. Strong.  
She couldn’t help but feel that her first impression of you, the glance over upon meeting, had mislead her. Because that pure look in your eyes, the way they melted when you saw Bokuto, the ice thawing away to soft and warmth that promised feelings of affection, could only mean you truly cared for him.  
“(y/n)-san.”  
Aino was quick to her feet, and she only stopped when she was right before you.  
“I do believe our fist meeting was rather poorly executed, so.” she gave a small bow, “I am Aino Niki, Bokuto’s teacher for the year. I hope we can get along?”  
You didn’t hesitate to accept, giving a small bow yourself, “(y/n) (l/n), but I’m originally foreign so please call me by my first name, (y/n).”

 

“(y/n), you went to school right?”  
You were halfway through devouring a burger, making Bokuto a proper dinner and going over looking his homework with a sharp eye.  
“Well duh.”  
He poked his tongue out at you, “I knew that!”  
“Then why’d you ask?” you chuckled, taking a large bite and raising a brow at him.  
“I wanted to know what it was like for you in school.”  
You were a silent for a moment, not really looking at him, but you didn’t have that really far away look in your eyes which, strangle enough, he was thankful for.  
“Well…” You put the burger down, swallowed your mouthful and rested your chin on your palm. “I can remember it very well, but I remember the gist of it.”

“Primary school wasn’t so bad, in fact I was liked by a lot of people, had a lot of friends. Oh primary school is elementary school in Japan-“

 _“Hey guys!”_  
_The bag was a little too big, the lunch box even more so in your smaller hands._  
_“Want to sit at the table again?” A big smile, eyes brimming with innocent zealous excitement. “Now that we’re year 4, we can sit there!”_  
_Your friends all nodded, almost as enthused as you, and every took seats around the table, tucking into the lunch boxes, unwrapping sandwiches and taking big bites._  
_You stuffed the wrap back into the lunch box, picked up the empty juice box and ran to the benches to the lunch box away, throwing the juice box out into a large bin._  
_“I’m just going to the bathroom!”_  
_Your friends nodded, smiled and waved. “We’ll wait!”_

 _When you came back, legs pumping but not puffing in the slightest, you rounded a corner, and the table was empty._  
_“They must be on the playground!” Your eyes shone, after all a game of tag at lunch on the big playground was the highlight of your day. Maybe they had started and you could join in upon stepping into the sand around the equipment._  
_They weren’t there._  
_So you went to the boys, and joined in making a circular wall around the ear wig that crawled through the white sand -poking it with sticks and taunting it, dribbling sand over it just enough to make it wiggle but not to die- and then lunch was over and you returned to your classroom. Not once asking your friends were they had been._  
_Maybe they had just gone to the canteen and you had missed them?_

 

 _“(y/n), stay still.” The girl was crouched over your feet, her hands had laces in her fingers, and she interweaved them in a frenzy. “Don’t kick me!”_  
_“I won’t kick you.” you replied, confused and peering down at her. “What are you doing?”_  
_Her two friends behind her laughed, giggling and hiding behind hands. The main antagoniser stepped back, admiring her handy work just as a bell went._  
_“Oh, class time!” she shot you a look over her shoulder as they ran, and called loudly, “don’t be late (y/n)!”_  
_You stood, and when you went to take your first step, you tripped. Palms scraping on the rough concrete, you made a small noise, winced a little. The you stood and stared at your laces, both inside laces of your shoes were tied together in a series of badly done, but apparently very capable knots._  
_“Oh.”_  
_You were late to class, and earned yourself a detention. You wouldn’t even say who did it._

You winced a little at the resurfaced, hazy memories, some good, but mostly bad now that you looked back again. “There was really good times though, like I did really well in something called cross country, I came second in year 4, and that’s with a bunch of schools in it! I had these friends that always got us into trouble too. this one guy, Dillian, hah!” you laughed, memories coming back and friends you had forgotten about during your long time on the earth. “I once got into massive trouble because he told me to stab his hand with a sharp pencil, and I did after the 3rd time he told me too, but then he told the teacher, that no, he hadn’t told me too.”  
You chuckled again, “prick.”  
“what’s a prick?”  
Your eyes widened the slightest, and then you burst into laughter, you had spoken the word in English without even realising. It felt weird, English rolling off your tongue when you had been speaking Japanese for so long.  
“Don’t say that Kou, anyone who knows English will not approve. Not someone of your age.”  
His expression went from intrigued to mischievous, and you already knew he was not going to listen, and would undoubtedly be calling someone that certain choice word.  
“I haven’t spoken English in so long if feels kinda strange.”  
“Can you speak English for me?”  
You hummed, and then clicked your fingers.  
“I will tell you about my primary school in Japanese, and then I’ll tell you about high school in English?”  
“Why high school?”  
You paused, debating whether or not to tell him, but he wouldn’t remember by the time he was of age to really ask you about it, and to really understand what it meant. And so you told him.  
“Well, Koutarou, what I remember from high school, it wasn’t good, I wasn’t good. I was depressed Kou.”  
“What’s depressed?”  
You ruffled his hair, your eyes softening and a small smile, he was confused by the hopeful, praying spark in your eyes.  
“Hopefully something you will never, ever have to deal with.” You leaned back suddenly, and once again if moved as if he had burned you. Bokuto narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what exactly had made your demeanor change so suddenly.  
“Anyways, Middle school!”

“I moved for middle school, my first friend introduced me to the card game of Pokemon, although I already watched the show-“

 _“You can have this one if you want, I already have him.”_  
_You took Shieldon with wide eyes, and after peering at him your eyes glowed and your smile free wide. Excitement practically roiled off you._  
_“Oh wow! he’s so cool!” You looked at his attacks, special ability, and you were so in love with the art of the pokemon that the card was instantly, and forever a favourite._  
_“He’s not that cool,” The girl, Farisha, leaned over to look at the pokemon with boredom. “He’s pretty weak, and he’s really ugly too.”_  
_You held the card protectively close, “He’s not ugly, look at that face! he’s so cute! he’s so cool just standing there and the stones aren’t even doing anything to him!”_  
_“No need to yell.”_  
_“hm?” you blinked, surprised._  
_Farisha handed you another card, “this is cute, but I already have one so you can have it.”_  
_“Buneary!” Your heart soared, the cute bunny pokemon had always been a favourite after playing Pokemon Platinum._  
_In the next week Farisha asked for the cards back -you said you had left them at home that day- she didn’t ask again._

 _You were sat next to a girl, her hair was bright orange and red, her eyes overly zealous and energetic, it matched your own energetic personality._  
_At recess she dragged you off, wanting to show the whole school to you, the playground, the oval, all the buildings and where every year group was._

_All the way through primary school, through to the end of year 6 you had the fiery haired girl as your best friend, playing soccer with the boys at lunch and recess, tearing up the grass of the oval, turning it brown and dry._  
_Pokemon cards in the hundreds, your grandma getting you after school and dropping your off as well._  
_Seeing your parents in the evening, coming home from work and eating dinner, playing games._

“I had two brothers.” You finish, your voice having grown weaker the further you got into the story, the memories washing over you. “I can remember their faces, clear as day, if I focus.” you reached over to your mug of tea, and swirled the liquid around gently.  
“I was the eldest, but eventually, they just kept growing past me.”  
You had never described this to him before, he had no idea what is was like, never before had you even dared speak of it.  
(y/n) had brothers. The thought was rebounding, echoing in his mind. In a way he wanted to know what they were like, were they like you? Did they love you?  
“We were close; I was with them both times when they met their soulmate.” Your voice trembles, “It was amazing and I wanted them to meet them for ages, I had always wanted them to find their true love and to be happy, and then all three of us would keep growing together and we’d always be together.”  
Koutarou suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was to come next, so far it had sounded nice, happy, like you really were the happiest you had ever been. The brother sounded like something that would lift your spirits, take you way up and tear away this darkness settling around you.  
“It was terrifying when they started ageing, and I wasn’t. My brother eventually looked older than me, and they kept growing, and getting old.” a hitch in your voice, “I was desperate, I looked everywhere, I talked to people all the time, I went on dates and I waited for that spark, that feeling in your chest when you know you’ve met them and you wake up the next morning and something feels different and you’ve kept growing. Like a curse being lift.  
“But I never met anyone Kou, I never, ever had that moment where there was spark and I never felt different and suddenly every day was the same. They had children and their hair started going grey, and then their children were the same age as me physically, and then their hair was going white. Suddenly they couldn’t go hiking and surfing, and they couldn’t play sports and do stupid things with me. I began to feel conscious when in public with them, because people would know, they would know what I was.”  
“What are you (y/n)?” His voice was a whisper, but it sliced through the utter silence of the apartment. He felt like he had yelled, the words were so much louder than his voice.  
“I am cursed forever, I have no soulmate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I played 'tag' we called it chasey or chase-y, depending on how you want to spell it. But i figured people would know 'tag' better so that's what I used.  
> Feedback is always appreciated, I like seeing you guys comment and support my writing. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading guys! I hope you enjoy the first chapter and comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated!


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